Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“That sounds . . . tragic.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Transcontinental Airlines Flight 826,” the flight attendant said over the PA system.
“Not completely tragic. They break the curse, so it has a happy ending.” I leaned forward and managed to get my cell phone out of my purse without taking the entire bag out.
Two missed text messages from Serena lit up my screen.
Serena: Txt me when u board
Serena: not kidding!
The messages were fifteen minutes apart.
“If you haven’t already done so, please stow your carry-on luggage in an overhead bin or the seat in front of you. Please take your seat and fasten your seat belt,” the flight attendant continued, her voice chipper but professional.
I tapped out a text to my sister.
Isabeau: boarded
Serena: u had me worried
Smiling, I shook my head. I was the only thing Serena worried about.
Isabeau: worried? Like I’d get lost between security and my gate?
Serena: i never know with u
I wasn’t that bad.
Isabeau: I love you. Thank you for this week.
Serena: Love u more. Txt when u land
The announcement continued. “If you’re seated next to an emergency exit, please read the special instructions card located in the seat back in front of you. If you do not wish to perform the functions described in the event of an emergency, please ask a flight attendant to reseat you.”
I glanced up. “That’s us,” I said to Nate. “We’re in an exit row.”
He looked at the markings on the door, then reached forward for the safety card while the attendant informed the cabin that it was a nonsmoking flight. Had to admit, that only made him cuter.
Nate read while the attendant finished out her announcements and closed the door. My heart rate spiked, the anxiety hitting me right on time. I fumbled with my phone and checked my Instagram and Twitter, then put my device on airplane mode, slipped it into the front pocket of my vest, and zipped the pocket. When my throat went tight, I adjusted the air above me, putting it on max.
Nate put the safety card back into the seat in front of him and settled in, watching what activity there was to see on the ground. The fog was dense this morning, already delaying us twenty minutes.
“Don’t forget your phone,” I said just before the attendant said the same over the intercom. “It has to be on airplane mode.”
“Don’t have a phone, so I’m good there.” He flashed me a smile, then winced, running his tongue over the split in his lip.
“What happened there?” I motioned to my own lip. “If you don’t mind me asking this time.”
His smile fell. “I had a slight disagreement with someone. It’s a long story.” He reached for the seat in front of him and took out a paperback from the pocket—Into Thin Air, by Jon Krakauer.
He was a reader? This guy just kept getting hotter.
I took the hint and retrieved my own book out of my purse, flipping to the bookmark in the middle of chapter eleven of Jennifer L. Armentrout’s Half-Blood.
“Flight attendants, please prepare for gate departure,” a deeper voice said over the PA.
“Is that any good?” Nate asked as the plane backed out of the gate.
“I love it. Though it looks like you might be more of a nonfiction kind of guy.” I nodded toward his reading choice. “How’s that one?” He looked to be about halfway through.
The plane turned to the right and rolled forward, and I took a breath in through my nose and pushed it out through my mouth.
“It’s good. Really good. I found it on this list of a hundred books you’re supposed to read by the time you’re thirty or something. I’m just working my way down the list.” He glanced over at me, and his brow puckered. “You doing okay?”
“Yep,” I answered as my stomach cartwheeled. “Did you know that the most dangerous times in flying are the first three minutes after takeoff and the last eight minutes before landing?”
“I didn’t.”
I swallowed. Hard. “I used to take sedatives. Prescribed by my doctor, of course. I’m not into the illegal stuff. Not that it’s bad if you are.” I cringed at my own words. Why the hell was my brain my own worst enemy?
“Not my thing. Why don’t you take the sedatives anymore?” He shut his book.
“They knock me out, and I almost missed my connection in Philly once. The flight attendant had to shake me awake, and then it was a full-out run to my gate. The door was already shut and everything, but they let me on. So, no more sedatives.”
The plane turned into a line of other planes, readying to taxi. Stop looking out the window. You know that makes it worse.
“Makes sense.” He cleared his throat. “So what are you studying up at Syracuse?” His obvious attempt to distract me made the corners of my mouth curve upward.